


Kozak Clan Prologue

by Morgue_142



Series: Kozak Clan [1]
Category: Kozak Clan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dark Comedy, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7208204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgue_142/pseuds/Morgue_142
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I would like to just start by saying that I fully plan on thoroughly explaining the time period, environments, technology, and overall alter-history that this universe takes place in, a little bit at a time. I understand it may be a bit confusing at first, but hopefully it will make more sense as I add on to this series. I have been working on this series for years, and I promise that it's all planned out in my head and notebooks. Now I just have to translate that into a full and functional story.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Kozak Clan Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to just start by saying that I fully plan on thoroughly explaining the time period, environments, technology, and overall alter-history that this universe takes place in, a little bit at a time. I understand it may be a bit confusing at first, but hopefully it will make more sense as I add on to this series. I have been working on this series for years, and I promise that it's all planned out in my head and notebooks. Now I just have to translate that into a full and functional story.

Prologue

Two years ago:

As a young, lone figure strolled casually down the upper street platform, he repeatedly checked his travel watch, he grinned as he confirmed his timing. It was about 8:30 p.m. on a mostly quiet urban street, the rain had mostly passed over, and there were only the occasional vehicles passing on the road underneath. The lights from the storefronts lit like beacons to show the figure his way. With a smirk on his scarred lip, his dark hair wet from the light drizzle of the evening, and his cold, focused eyes on his destination, he quickened his pace.

He hopped up the steps to the building, and let out a quick chuckle as he read the sign, ‘the Atonement Bar’, as though THAT was what alcohol is for. As he double-checked himself for all his equipment one last time before he entered the bar, he clicked the safety on his sidearm, now comfortable with his physical appearance and light armor coverage; he prepared himself mentally for what he may face inside. He let out a deep breath and entered the door with an innocent, happy smile.

The surprisingly well lit bar consisted of two sections; a large dining area filled with tables and a few booths; and the main bar area itself with just two rows of counter seats, with a small television set on one of the shelves behind the counter. As the figure walked through the door and said his greetings to the bartender, he made quick scans of the rest of the establishment. The only customers seemed to be a group of four middle-aged men, no wait- five middle-aged men, as one appeared from the back hallway leading to the restrooms. The man grabbed a few more drinks from the bartender before making his way back to the table. To the figure at the door, it seemed remarkable enough that the fifth man made it to the bathroom to begin with, as now he stumbled into more than a few tables moving towards his party.

The figure decided just to take a seat away from them and settled into a counter seat in the back corner. As the bartender made his way to him, the figure pulled out a few dollars, “That won’t get ya much here boy, liquor’s expensive these days. Sorry.” The bartender shrugged. The figure looked up and smiled “Oh, no. That’s okay sir, I don’t drink. I’d just like a Mountain Dew, if you have any?” The bartender seemed quizzical, “That fizzy stuff won’t help ya forget, kid.” He stepped back to reach for the soft drinks as the figure replied merrily, “Heh, I’m not looking to forget tonight, this is to pump me up for later. Thank you.” “Sure, no problem kid. Just let me know if ya need anythin’.” “I’ll be fine for awhile, but thanks.” The bartender nodded and walked to the other end of the counter, gazing out the window as a few cars went right on by. He sighed and went back to cleaning.

As the figure opened his bottle, a sudden shadow appeared in the dark corner next to his seat. Out of the wall formed a ghastly spectral being, cloaked in torn, shadowy robes and a dark cowl covering most of its upper head. It spoke with subtle urgency to the figure at the bar, “John, are you open to talk?” Under the new arrival’s cowl was a chiseled skull, with small carvings and runes etched into his head. Deep black sockets with two tiny flickering, bright blue pupils shown kindness through his sinister exterior. Not that it mattered, as the other patrons of the bar could not see him. He appeared only to the figure in the corner. As well, only the young figure could hear him unless he preferred otherwise. The figure, John, noticed him almost immediately, and pulled out his cell phone, a little old and robust, and not altogether appeasing to the eyes, but he preferred survivability more than cheap, sleek plastic. He opened the phone and smiled as he put it up to his right ear and spoke quietly as to not disturb anyone else. “Hey, how’s it going?”

The cloaked figure continued, “I have found him. Panther is in the mountains of Greece. Surely a place of solitude if ever he could find one.” The cloaked figured moved to John’s side and tried to look him in the eyes, “Perhaps he wishes to find peace or to leave you to live freely as you choose?” John turned to face him, and while still smiling and speaking light heartedly to maintain his façade to the other patrons, added a stern undertone for his friend to understand clearly, “He always vanishes like this at some point, and EVERY time when I find him he has some new Mr. Miyagi puzzle or training or some kind of little moral quiz-let. I’m working right now. So when I’m finished, you can show me the way to him. Thanks by the way. Why don’t you come share a drink with me? Reaping souls must be tiring, right?” He paused to chuckle to himself again, “In fact, you might as well stick around, I’ll be done shortly. Sorry to give you more work.” “You know that is not how it works. It is much more complicated than that.” The cloaked figure glanced at the table with the five rout-y men. His solid expression softened a bit, he spoke again, this time with sorrow in his voice, “John... they have caused no harm. Do they not simply deserve a night to relieve the stress of life?” John placed his drink down on the counter and without shifting his gaze towards the bartender, he spoke softly, “No one is without sin. You’ve been around much longer than I have, I’m surprised that you haven’t already come to that conclusion.” He took another drink of the plastic bottle as his face turned cold, “Besides, you haven’t been listening to their particular topic of interest…” He finished off his soda, and stood up from his seat. “John? What are you-?” the cloaked figure started, but he was interrupted, “Listen Grim,” John began, “When I’m on duty, it’s ‘Meca One.’ And I hope you get paid on commission, because I’m about to bump up your salary.”  
Before the Grim Reaper could object, Meca One flicked his phone shut and spun to face the full table, and he began his steady pace to the group. He approached the table with a welcoming smile as they slowly grew quiet. He began to speak to them openly, adding a bit of an accent to it, when he was a few tables away, “Hey guys! I was just wonderin’ if I could get ya a few drinks? From me to you?” They glanced around awkwardly at each other, assuming that he was mistaking them for some people he knew. “Anybody?” he continued to ask, “Nobody?” he stood still and played as though he was taken aback. “Well, that’s not how you should respond to someone’s hospitality! I guess you drug peddlers aren’t used to being on the receiving end of ‘free merchandise,’ huh?” The table snapped straight, they all tried to hide the surprise in their expressions. But Meca One waved them off, “Oh, now I’ve always wanted to get into a risky business like that. But it just seemed too hard to start from the bottom. Could never find enough customers, you know?” He placed his left hand on one of the chairs next to him, tightening his grip, his padded gloves scratching the wood. The other hand popped in the air as he spoke, “WAIT! I’ve got it! I’ll just take your customers!” he laughed a moment before he continued, as the men slowly began to form grimaces on their faces and rise from their seats, “Oh come on guys,” his voice became dark, and a devilish grin came across his scarred lip once again, “it’s not like you’re gonna need them anymore.”

The men jumped from their seats as the bartender fumbled for his baton to break up the fight. The first man was knocked to the ground immediately by Meca One’s right hand as he swung, back-handing the man over his own chair. Meca One then lobbed the chair in his left hand over the table at the two men furthest from him. In doing so, he left himself open for a quick jab to the chin by the second man’s left hand. He blocked the next swing and caught the third, then twisting and snapping the bones in the man’s right forearm. The man shouted as the pain sharply ran down his body. Meca One then pulled the man, possibly twenty pounds heavier than himself, up and onto the table, shattering glasses to the floor and began throwing heavy jabs to the man’s thighs and stomach. A third man rushed through the chairs to pull Meca One off and in the process caught an angry strike to the throat. He slumped to the ground tripping on a chair as he went, holding his throat and gasping for a breath. Meca One, feeling the man on the table was properly out of the fight, backed up and turned his attention to the last two men, one had a broken bottle, the other was trying to circle the table to flank him from the right. Meca One drew his favored weapon from his black backpack. A short, 10” blade, curved like a classic katana, with obvious wear and tear on the blade and handle. Clearly not the first time he had decided to brandish this tool.

The man with the bottle rushed forward, and as he did, the other began to do the same; Meca One followed their movements as best he could but chose mind over matter for this scenario. He kicked a chair towards the bottle wielder with his left leg, and turned to the unarmed man. He reached forward shouting, “Party foul!” as he flicked his arm and colorful streamers flew out of his sleeve and into the man’s face. He stopped entirely, waving his arms to clear the streamers from the air, completely caught off guard as Meca One gashed the back of his right shin with the blade, and then put out by a precise incision up into the chin. Meca One took a moment too long to enjoy himself as he was struck in the left shoulder by the fifth man. He rolled to avoid a second blow and instead caught a swift kick to the inside of his right thigh. He winced at the pain as he kicked the man back into the table behind them, the man yelled at him, “I’ll get you for Terrance!” he then turned to the man on the table, “Gavin, get up and help me pull this little boy apart!” To which Gavin seemed to respond with a harsh gargling noise and a cough of blood. Meca One pressed his luck as he smiled, “I think he tapped out.” The bottle man’s expression turned red and furious. He roared as he charged directly forward and was met with a solid chunk of lead through his left cheek and out the back of his neck. His momentum threw him past Meca One and under the next table. Meca One exhaled deeply as he turned his small, black, semi-automatic sidearm and shot the bartender in the right elbow, nearly dismembering the man’s forearm. “Have a seat anywhere you like, and I’ll be with you in just a moment sir.” Meca One couldn’t help but smirk as he yelled to the bartender.

He walked slowly, though wincing at the pain a little, from man to man, quickly and efficiently stabbing any still breathing in the throat. When he finished, he strolled as best he could to the bartender who was sitting directly next to the counter. As he approached, the man began to beg, “Why d-did ya shoot me?! They were the ones ya wanted, right?! J-Just take the register or whatever ya want kid! Please!” Meca One crouched down with a sorrowed expression, “Well, I’m sorry, what did you think I was here for?” his eyes lit up and his devilish grin returned, “I’m here for money!” The bartender looked up surprised and hopeful, “T-Then take it, take all I’ve got!” Meca One pulled his sidearm and promptly shot the man in his left kneecap. The man let out a sharp, agonized scream. Meca One continued speaking, “No stupid. I’m not here for YOUR money.” He waited to make sure the bartender was paying attention, “You see, I’m a mercenary. I get paid to do the jobs that weak people with ‘morals’ and ‘basic human rights’ are too scared to do themselves.” He slapped the man in the side of the head to get his attention once more, “The funny part is that those guys were just a way for me to vent off a little steam. So why do YOU think I’m here?” The bartender began sobbing, “I don’t know!”

“Oh, come on! You big dummy! Well, I’ll tell you something about my job. The best thing about pedophiles is that there’s always someone who wants them dead. And there's always one little girl with the grit to make sure somebody sees to it… you understand, Mr. Nickolas Alivines?” Meca One grabbed the bartender’s hair and smashed his head into the corner of the counter. As blood dripped from the man’s left eye socket, Meca One leaned in close, “That one’s from Ms. Sally personally. I get paid extra for that.” Meca One began chuckling uncontrollably, “I bet you never expected the adorable little Ms. Sally to be the heir to a company worth millions! Hahaha! I should take a picture of your face and show it to her! Maybe she’ll double my pay!” Meca One kicked Nick into the cabinet wall and onto the floor. “If you want the truth though, I think I’ll take a little drive down to your parent’s house, huh? They’re good people, right? They don’t really know what their big boy is capable of, right? Maybe I’ll run that by them while I’m gutting them. Wow. The last thing that they ever hear would be about the monster that caused them all this pain. Oh, who am I kidding? The real monster is the condom company that they bought from! Haha!” “Please! Don’t hurt them! Leave them alone!” Nick could no longer hold his head up. Meca One stopped laughing, “I’m sorry Mr. Alivines, but business is business. You should have thought about that before you let your filthy hands think for you.” Meca One stood up, checking his sidearm for damage. Nick looked up with all his strength, “PLEAS-”

BAAM!

“And thank you.” Meca One put away his sidearm and turned to clean out the pockets of the bodies for any spare cash, as Nick’s body slumped over to the floor.

While searching the third body, Meca One heard the door to the bar open, a woman, early 20’s, dyed blonde hair, nice green dress clothes……pregnant, had just closed the door and was standing at the counter, too horrified to speak. She hadn’t even noticed Meca One until he spoke, “Sorry Ma’am. We’re closed for renovations. I’m thinking something with a little less… corpses.” She spun around as he drew his weapon and shot her through the right lung. She collapsed into the wall next to the door, Meca One rolled over the divider between the two sections. He aimed at her stomach, slowly breathing, it felt like an eternity, “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you survive, you saw my face, that was my mistake, but I just wanted the world to see my flawless beauty for one mission.” He stood there still; his finger shivered a moment, just a moment, the tiniest fraction of fear. He flinched slightly as he fired into the woman’s lifeless body. Then, he turned for the door.

He closed the door behind him, stepped down to the street platform, and began the chilly walk to the safe house. As he walked, he noticed a young man coming the opposite direction; a familiar face, it was vague. Someone he knew? He wasn't sure. A long time ago perhaps. They passed each other, Meca One glanced at the man as he walked by. He was smiling, a clearly genuine, joyful smile. Somewhere important to be? He had a small, velvety black box in his hands, and they were shaking nervously. The man went by. Meca One turned his head and the last thing he saw before he turned the corner was the man heading up the steps to the Atonement Bar.

The Grim Reaper appeared as soon as he turned the corner, “John, that was wrong. And completely unnecessary. You could have avoided the bloodshed.” Meca One continued his pace and did not bother to face his conversational opponent, “She saw my face, she would have told someone.” Grim thought for a moment and replied, “And the infant? The UNBORN child?” Meca One replied coldly, “No one is without sin…” They continued their walk in silence. Meca One’s sinister good mood had faded, now replaced by something…cold.


End file.
